


The King's Knight

by cruellae (tinkabelladk)



Series: Checkmate [1]
Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Fluff, M/M, now with gladnis on the side, some story too
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-14
Updated: 2017-01-29
Packaged: 2018-09-17 11:55:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 13
Words: 16,687
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9322487
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tinkabelladk/pseuds/cruellae
Summary: **Spoilers**Noctis/Prompto throughout the game. Ignis and Gladio will be there too, grousing about on the sidelines. Friendship and romance and boys kissing.Now complete!





	1. If the bad guys come for Noct

**Author's Note:**

> This chapter has major spoilers for chapter 13 of the game, and later chapters will probably spoil the ending.

_Prince Noctis sprinted down the hallway, his black boots echoing on the facility’s metal floor. Around him, the building was eerily silent, like the dead city that surrounded it. His breath came hard and fast, exertion and fear, as he approached the body slumped over a chair in the center of a command console, blond hair limp and dirty with grime and blood. “No,” he said, stumbling. “No. Prompto…”_

_He grabbed his best friend’s cold shoulders and the illusion fell away all at once, and he was left holding a magitech construct, humanoid with eerie, deep-socketed eyes. From somewhere unfathomable above him came cold laughter, and he began to run. Prompto was still alive. He had to be._

….

“You know you’ve spent all summer doing nothing but playing King’s Knight,” Ignis said, frowning down at Noctis and Prompto’s cards arrayed on the table. Sunlight fell in through the tall windows in Noct’s apartment, shining on Prompto’s golden hair and pale skin, while Noct curled up on the shaded part of the sofa.

“Not true,” Noctis muttered. “I’ve also been studying the reports you give me.”

“And I have been learning to kick ass at King’s Knight,” Prompto said, laying down a card with a grin. “C’mon Iggy. Play with us.”

“Yeah,” Noct said, sitting up. Ignis was wicked good at King’s Knight, always two steps ahead of everybody else, and it was fun just to set challenges before him and watch his mind work. “Prompto and I can be on a team.”

“Team Awesome versus Ignis.” Prompto spoke like a sports reporter announcing a championship.

Ignis shook his head, undeterred. “You two need to find a productive use of your time.”

“It would help if we had a snack.” Prompto gave him a wide, eager grin, the smile that, when directed at Noctis, could get him to ignore reason and do just about anything Prompto wanted.

“The kitchen is right there,” Ignis said, gesturing to his left, immune to Prompto’s charm.

Noctis watched them banter, Prompto’s good natured pouting and the wry smile Ignis was trying to hide. A short knock sounded on the door, then Gladiolus pushed it open without waiting for an answer, a gesture that Noctis told him time and again negated the whole point of knocking.

“You’re late,” he said, stepping through the threshold and pausing for the briefest of moments to take in the scene—King’s Knight cards scattered on the table, Prompto flailing his arms as he tried to persuade Ignis to cook something, Noctis sitting cross legged beside him, leaning out of the way of his gesturing. Gladiolus was scanning his surroundings, Noctis knew, checking for threats and noting changes. He took his charge to protect Noctis very seriously—though what could really happen to a Prince in his own city?—and was constantly on alert.

“You’re late,” he said, in his gravelly voice.

Noctis sighed. One look at Gladio and he knew he was going to regret ditching practice. “I forgot what day it was.”

“Why don’t you take Prompto with you?” Ignis said. “I’m sure Gladiolus can teach him a thing or two. If he’s going to follow you around like a shadow, the least he can do is learn to fight.”

“Me?” Prompto squeaked, at the same time Gladiolus snorted and said, “Him?”

“Hey.” Prompto stood, crossing his arms and tilting his head up to look Gladio in the eye. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means it’s hard fucking work,” Gladiolus growled. “And I don’t think you’re up to it.”

Noctis suppressed a smile, watching the two of them. Prompto at least a foot and a half shorter than Gladiolus, glaring at the much bigger man as though challenging him to a fight. Prompto might be small, and cheerful, and usually goofy, but he was also fierce. When they became friends, Noctis was surprised to find that Prompto refused to tolerate the inevitable rumors that circulated about the prince, the false stories students whispered in the hallway and passed between desks like love notes, spreading through the high school like the flu. He was Noctis’s ardent—and only—defender.

“This isn’t King’s Knight,” Gladiolus said. “It’s not a game.”

“I know that.” Prompto squared his narrow shoulders. “But if some bad guys ever come for Noct, I want to do more than just throw myself in the way of their sword.”

Noctis’s eyes widened, and he stared at his friend. The words had slipped from him so easily, like this was something Prompto had thought about many times before. It felt like a promise.

“Let’s get going, then,” Gladiolus said, bringing Noctis back to the present moment. “We don’t have all day.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! Hope to continue this soon!


	2. For King and Country

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompto has a little trouble adjusting to life outside of Insomnia.

_Noctis will come for me, Prompto told himself. The metal of the strange contraption that held him upright dug into his arms and legs, his head drooping as he no longer had the strength to hold it up._

_Noctis will come for me. Noctis will come._

_Though in his heart of hearts, he wasn’t so sure. He saw Noctis on the train, chasing him down, murder in his eyes as he looked at Prompto through the lock of black hair that always fell in his face, the lock of black hair Prompto had always wanted to gently brush aside before taking photos so he could get the clear blue of his friend’s eyes in the shot._

_He saw Noctis running atop the train, the vehicle clacking and vibrating beneath their feet, the effort to stay upright, and then—Noctis moved so fast he had no time to respond or even speak, shoving him. And he fell. That moment suspended in the air seemed to last forever, Ardyn laughing and Noctis staring after him, his face a perfect picture of shock. And then they were gone, swept away along the tracks, the swift train disappearing into the coming night._

_…_

Watching Noctis fight was one of Prompto’s favorite things. Sword in hand, the prince was graceful and fearless, the weapon sweeping through the air like a shining extension of his arm. He was a warrior king, wielding the magic of Lucis. He was a dancer, through a deadly stage. He was—

“Prompto! Put away the goddamn camera and help us out,” Gladiolus growled, throwing a glance Prompto’s way before wrestling a coeurl to the ground and driving his sword through its skull.

“Watch this, Prompto!” Noctis called to him, dangling from a perch thirty feet above Prompto’s head before warping across the battlefield to slay one of the horned creatures with a single strike. He snapped the photo at the perfect moment, as Noctis materialized atop the beast, lingering traces of his magic clinging to him like blue silk.

“You two are going to get us killed,” Gladiolus groused, surveying the carnage they had just wrought.

Prompto resisted the urge to shrink back and bring up the camera to hide his face. He felt like a coward, and a complete and utter idiot, and had been hoping no one would notice that he hadn’t drawn his gun, not since they left Insomnia, in fact.

From behind him, Noctis sighed. “It was an easy fight. Let him take a few pictures.”

“See?” Prompto gave the lumbering giant a cheeky grin, hiding his internal rush of relief. “The Prince of Lucis thinks it’s a good idea.”

“Have you noticed that you only refer to him as the prince when you want us to let you two get away with something?” Ignis asked, looking up from the coeurl he’d been cutting the whiskers off of. Prompto never could figure out why Ignis bothered—coeurl whiskers were pretty much worthless and they already had at least a dozen.

Noctis chuckled, putting a slender, elegant hand on Prompto’s shoulder. “Let me see your pictures.”

“We’ll make camp first,” Ignis said, in a tone that allowed for no argument.

#

As darkness fell swiftly around them, Prompto and Noctis sat at a nearby pier, within sight of the haven’s glowing runes. Noctis had his tackle box open, but the fishing rod was just sitting on the pier, while he looked through the photos Prompto had taken.

“You do make me look pretty badass,” Noctis said, with a hint of satisfaction.

“Just feeding your ego,” Prompto said, playfully bumping his shoulder against Noct’s.

Noctis reached around Prompto, his hand briefly brushing Prompto’s back, to pull out the blonde boy’s gun from its holster and examine it. “Is there a problem with this?”

“Give me that.” Flushed with embarrassment, Prompto snatched it back.

“Prompto…”

“I’ve just—I’ve never killed anything before,” he blurted out. “Those coeurls looked a lot more real than any of my practice targets.”

“You eat meat, don’t you?” Noctis asked.

“Well…yeah, but I don’t have to be the one to kill it first,” Prompto protested. “That’s different.”

“I know you wouldn’t hurt a fly if you didn’t have to,” Noctis said, turning his head so their eyes met. “Do it for me, Prompto.”

Prompto swallowed his flippant response, because Noct looked so serious. And held him in that lingering gaze, his eyes as blue as magic, for long enough to make his stomach do a strange little flip.

“Do it for Lucis,” Noctis said. “Because we’re going to need you.”

“You got it, Your Highness,” Prompto said, putting enough cheery emphasis into the title that they both knew he was kidding around. He’d never once seriously called Noctis anything but his name. Noctis would never really be the prince to him, because if he ever let himself think of his best friend that way, he’d realize just how far apart their circumstances really were, and how poorly he measured up.

But it helped, to think of Noctis and his solemn gaze and his words—do this for me. And in the next hunt, Prompto drew his gun and fired, not for his country, not for his prince, but for his friend.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Who but Ignis would have ever thought all those coeurl whiskers were good for anything?  
> Thanks for reading!


	3. Insomnia falls

_“Tell me, Prompto…”_

_The voice. Ardyn’s voice. Coming from somewhere overhead, echoing eerily through the empty jail. Prompto gritted his teeth. He was so fucking sick of this voice._

_“Does this feel like home?” Ardyn asked._

_“What?”_

_“This facility. You were born in one just like it, you know. Who would have ever guessed that a simple test subject like yourself would be able to fool the Crown Prince of Lucis into letting you join his entourage?”_

_“I didn’t fool anyone,” Prompto shouted, though he had, and they both knew it. He’d never lied to Noctis about his past, but only because Noctis never asked._

_“If he came here looking for you, he’d probably figure it out.” Ardyn sounded delighted by the possibility. “What do you think he’d do then?”_

…

“I don’t feel fully…human,” Noctis said. They were sitting in the back of the Regalia, the rain rendering the windows around them opaque. Noctis had taken sanctuary back here while Ignis cooked inside the little RV and Gladiolus made quiet but solemn phone calls to different members of the Crownsguard. Insomnia had fallen, and with it, most of their allies and friends. And Noct’s father, of course.

“What do you mean, not human?” Prompto asked.

“I’ve never felt…normal,” Noctis said. “There’s always been magic in my blood, it’s always been part of me. But in that tomb, when I took that King’s weapon and it…I don’t know. I feel…strange, now.”

“You seem the same to me, bro,” Prompto said, though when he took a moment to study Noctis’s features, something did feel off. There was a little spark, dry and breathless like a static shock, when their eyes met, and something drew him closer, as though currents of magic still flowed around the prince, unseen and unavoidable.

“Prompto?” Noctis raised an eyebrow, and Prompto realized he was leaning a little too close, breathing a little too lightly.

“Just making sure,” he said, airily, and then pulled back. “Hey, I know. Let’s try out that new weapon of yours. Maybe once you get used to it, it won’t feel so weird.”

Noctis glanced out into the rain. “It’s getting dark.”

“Yeah, you’re right. Maybe tomorrow.”

“No.” Noctis opened his door and the sweet smell of rain filled the backseat, drops splashing onto the fine leather upholstery. “Let’s go.”

“Um…” Prompto looked at his watch. “It’s actually pretty late. Forget I—”

“Are you scared?” Noctis asked.

“No. Course not.” Prompto scrambled across the seat and got out after Noctis. “I just don’t like the rain.”

“Chicken,” Noctis muttered, and started walking into the desert. After a few moments glancing longingly at the warm trailer where Ignis was probably already simmering something over the stove, Prompto hurried after the prince.

#

Gladiolus paced back and forth within the confines of the narrow trailer. With his broad shoulders and bulky frame, he’d always felt a little trapped and claustrophobic in the lodgings at Hammerhead, but never more so than tonight.

“Calm down,” Ignis said, without looking up from the stove.

Gladiolus narrowed his eyes at the chef. How could anyone be calm when Insomnia had fallen to the empire and the king—his king, the king he had sworn to lay down his life to protect—was dead? How could Ignis stand there with a fucking spatula in his hand and act like the world wasn’t crashing down around them?

“Did you know?” Gladiolus growled.

“Did I know what?” Ignis said, tranquil as ever, his eyes on the simmering pot on the stove.

“The signing.” Gladiolus grabbed Ignis by his slender shoulder and spun him around. “Did you know it was going to end like this?”

Ignis jerked his shoulder away from Gladio’s grasp. He took an indignant step back, but managed to keep it from looking like a retreat. His cool composure only infuriated Gladiolus more.

“I had my suspicions,” Ignis said.

“You knew,” Gladiolus roared, stepping closer. He was hot with fury, burning with guilt, and before he could stop himself, his fist crashed through the plaster wall where Ignis had been standing only a second before. “You bastard.”

He swung again, and Ignis ducked, just in time. His fist collided with the window frame, and a crack snaked along the glass, but it didn’t shatter.

“Gladio. Calm down.” Ignis was the voice of reason, but the part of Gladiolus that could be rational was drowned out by the rushing of rage in his ears.

“I could have been there,” he yelled. “I could have been with the king if you had just told me—” He swung again, and missed again, and then Ignis slapped him, hard across the face.

“Do you think you’re the only person who lost something today?” Ignis said. “I was sworn to serve the king just as you were. I devoted my life to it just as you did.”

Gladio’s rage drained away as he realized the truth of Ignis’s words. He was left only with a shame that made him hang his head and clench his fists in helplessness.

“It’s not your fault,” Ignis said.

“I shoulda been there, Iggy. I shoulda been by his side. I’m the king’s shield.” He gave a harsh, mirthless laugh. “And when he needed me, I was off on some stupid errand. Why didn’t you tell me so I could go back?”

“The king has tasked you and I with protecting what is most precious to him,” Ignis said. “He didn’t send us away on an errand, Gladio. He sent us to secure the future of the Lucian crown.”

Gladiolus ran a hand through his dark mane. Ignis spoke sense, as he always did.

“The kid’s not ready,” he said.

“He will be.” Ignis turned back to the stove and Gladiolus let out a long breath. As he turned to leave, he heard Ignis murmur so softly he wasn’t sure if he was meant to hear it at all. “I hope.”

#

The dense rainclouds made the landscape darker than the hour suggested, and Prompto didn’t think that daemons wore watches.

“Uh, Noctis? I really think we should go back.”

Noctis just drew his sword, and Prompto could make out a vaguely humanoid shape in the distance, wearing a billowing garment and also armed with a slender sword, walking slowly, menacingly towards them.

“Hey buddy…I think we should run,” Prompto said, and then Noct was gone, the signature whomp of his warping magic sounding beside Prompto.

The prince was something to behold, all magic and fury and light, striking the strange daemon again and again, dancing around its blows. Prompto had his pistol in hand before he realized it, firing whenever he could get a clear shot.

He didn’t see the blow that felled Noctis, only that Noctis fell. Prompto yelled his name, and sprinted for the limp body. He stood between it and the daemon, raising his gun with a shaking hand and firing, but the resilient creature knocked the weapon from Prompto’s hand.

“You can’t have him,” Prompto shouted, as the creature raised its sword, and Prompto squeezed his eyes shut, thinking this was the end.

There was a resounding thud, and Prompto opened his eyes to see the creature cleaved nearly in half, Gladiolus’s greatsword through its core.

“What the hell were you thinking?” he growled at Prompto.

“Not the time, Gladio,” Ignis said, and the urgency in his usually calm voice sent a spike of fear through Prompto. “We’d better get them back to Hammerhead.”

Gladiolus scooped Noctis up, the prince limp and small in his guardian’s arms as they hurried back to the lights of civilization.

“Is he gonna be okay?” Prompto asked, jogging to keep up with Ignis’s long strides.

“We’ll have to wait and see,” Ignis said, after a long moment.

#

Gladiolus laid Noctis out on the bed in the RV. His skin was tinged with gray, his breathing shallow, his right hand clenched in a fist, as though he still held his sword.

“You’re gonna be okay,” Prompto said. “Right, Iggy? He’s gonna be fine.”

Suddenly, he was lifted off the ground by a large hand gripping his collar, and slammed against the wall.

“What were you thinking, Prompto?” Gladiolus growled. “You fucking know better than this. You two—”

“It was my fault.” Noct’s weak voice came from behind the furious guardian.

“Ah, just as I thought,” Ignis said, though relief was clear in his voice. “No Lucian magic comes without a price. The King’s Armory appears to be no different.”

Noctis raised his right hand, which looked shrunken and skeletal. “My sword almost killed me.”

“You’ll have to be more careful,” Ignis said, as he began rubbing salve onto the injured hand.

“Uh…Gladio? Could you put me down, please?” Prompto squeaked, uselessly squirming in the giant’s grasp.

Gladiolus scowled, but set him on the ground. “Outside,” he growled. “Now.”

Prompto glanced over at Noctis, but the prince had his eyes shut tight as Ignis tested the flexibility of his fingers. From the grimace on his face, Prompto guessed it was painful.

“You’re a fucking idiot,” Gladiolus said, as soon as he shut the RV door beside them. They stood under the awning, rain falling like a curtain around them.

“I know. I know.” Prompto stepped back, holding his arms forward and waving his hands. “I’m sorry.”

“But I’m glad you know what it means to serve Lucis.”

“Um…I do?”

“When I got there, you were standing between a ronin’s sword and your prince.” Gladio laid a heavy hand on Prompto’s shoulder. “Welcome to the Crownsguard, Prompto.”

#

Prompto tried to sleep, lying in the bed just across a narrow aisle from Noctis, but he was awake when the prince got up and snuck out of the trailer. Gladiolus’s snores didn’t cease, but after a moment, he heard Ignis murmur, “Don’t let him do anything stupid this time, Prompto.”

Outside, the rain had stopped, and the stars were brilliant above the weak lights of Hammerhead.

“I don’t want you to do anything like that again,” Noctis said. He was leaning against the side of the RV, his phone in his hands, the device casting a ghostly blue light on his face. But his hand seemed to be healed.

“Trust me,” Prompto said, with a laugh he didn’t feel. “I’m never going out after dark again.”

“Not that.” Noctis lowered his phone. “Don’t…” He made a sharp noise of frustration. “Don’t act like my life means more than yours.”

Prompto shrugged, and let the words roll easily off his tongue. “Sure. Won’t happen again.”

Somehow he knew that was a lie.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! <3


	4. Lestallum nights

_Noctis stumbled down the unforgiving hallway, relentlessly cold and gray like the rest of this strange tower, and into a side room. It looked like a dormitory, narrow bunk beds in a line, clean linens atop them, hospital-white. He collapsed on one of them, breathing hard, and stared up at the mattress above him. He’d lost all track of time since entering this dead place, but it felt like he’d been here for days, and he was at the end of his endurance. Without the ring, he’d be dead._

_The Ring of the Lucii gave him power, or rather, let power flow through him, like a lightning rod catching a charge from the thrumming storm. But no Lucian magic came without a price. Ring on his finger, he would grow old before his time, wither as his father had under the strain of containing and channeling so much magic._

_Still, he would pay any price if it meant he could find Prompto. He had condemned his father for forsaking the kingdom to save one prince, but now he understood. He understood, finally, how the world could narrow to one love, one life. The Crystal was here too, but that barely mattered, because what would the Crystal, the Light, the kingdom be worth, without Prompto?_

_The king was dead, the city fallen, the brotherhood broken, and the sun was rapidly setting on the only hope Noctis had left to him. He closed his eyes against the facility’s harsh fluorescents and drifted into an uneasy sleep, the hand bearing the Ring of the Lucii resting over his heart._

…

The night was warm and muggy, the scent of flowers thick on the air, the lights of Lestallum glowing orange in the darkness, keeping the demons at bay.

Noctis sat at a table in the back of the patio adjoining the run down bar near the Lestallum marketplace, tracing lines and circles in the condensation left behind by his cold bottle of beer. He would have preferred hard liquor, but out here in the boonies you took what you could get, apparently.

“You realize you are underage?” Ignis said, taking the chair beside Noct’s. But the chastisement was mild, and he didn’t seem inclined to take the drink away.

“Yeah.”

Ignis sighed, raising a bottle to his own lips. He looked weary—they all did, Noctis supposed. The episode at the Disc had been harrowing, and he mostly wanted to bury his face in a pillow and forget all about it. Gladiolus was spending time with Iris; he’d said something about family being precious, and taken off to see her the moment they’d reached Lestallum, all of them amazed to be still standing, and on solid ground, although without a car, for the moment.

“Where’s your better half?” Ignis asked.

The prince sighed, inclining his head towards the bar, where Prompto was doing shots with a beautiful woman who looked about ten years older than he was. If Noctis strained, he could almost hear Prompto asking her to model for him—his standard pickup line.

“I see,” Ignis said, after a moment.

“Yeah.” Noctis stared down at the table, at the light glinting off the little rings of water.

“Have you ever tried talking to him about it?”

“No. And I’m not going to.” Noctis drained the last of his beer. “I’m going to get some sleep. See ya, Ignis.”

As he brushed past the crowd at the bar to get out of the building, Prompto grabbed his arm.

“Hey.” Noctis could smell the vodka as Prompto leaned in to whisper in his ear, hot breath tickling his skin, a hot rush of desire accompanying it. “Nadine has a friend with her. You wanna join us?”

Noctis sighed. “Nah. I’m really tired.”

“You’re always tired,” Prompto whined. “It’s way more fun if you come, Noct.”

He shook his head. Prompto was good at drawing him out of his shell, but it wasn’t going to work this time.

“Please,” Prompto said, tugging on his arm. “I need a little backup here.”

“Prompto,” he murmured, “today was insane. I just wanna go to the hotel and crash.”

Prompto shrugged. “Sure. We can do that instead.” And before Noctis could protest, Prompto was bidding the lovely lady goodbye and leading him out into the sweet darkness of the Lestallum night.

#

The two beds in their hotel room were neatly made, the walls a dark green that made the room seem darker and smaller. Noctis collapsed onto one of the beds, sighing. He rolled over on his back and Prompto sat beside him.

“Wanna see the pictures I took today?” Prompto asked, pulling out his camera before Noctis had a chance to agree. Not that he wouldn’t—it was a chance to sit so close their thighs touched, hunched over the little screen on his camera. Noctis put his head on Prompto’s shoulder and watched the images go by, landscapes, fight scenes, portraits. He closed his eyes and drifted.

When he woke, the light was still on, but he was lying on his bed, half sprawled on Prompto, who was breathing softly, his eyes closed. Noctis buried his face in the curve of Prompto’s shoulder, breathing him in, spice and musk and vodka.

He was weak, he knew that, he had always known that. How could he expect to bear the burdens of his kingdom when this burden, this yearning, this aching want, could overcome him so?

How could he sacrifice himself for the sake of his kingdom—as he knew he someday must—when he couldn’t bring himself to sacrifice this heady moment to the inevitabilities of duty?

Whether he married Luna, or some other foreign, highborn dignitary, he would never be able to give Prompto everything that he deserved. And even if he could forsake duty and tradition and marry his best friend, Noctis, like his father, would grow old and die well before his time. What, really, could he offer? A secret love, scorned and sullied by the imagination of the people and the serpent tongues of the press. A short, dangerous life together, a life where Prompto would always be second to the demands of the throne.

Their time together was as sweet as youth, but couldn’t be allowed to blossom, or to last.

That was the sacrifice the new king had to make, here, in the dark, as he rested his head on Prompto’s chest to hear the beating of his heart.

“Prompto,” he whispered.

“Hey,” Prompto said, his voice rough with sleep. “What time is it?”

Noctis reached past him and turned off the light. Moonlight fell through the open window, highlighting Prompto’s cheekbones, the tip of his nose, his narrow chin.

“Noct?” Prompto raised his eyebrows, still lying on his back, looking up at the prince.

“I’m sorry,” Noctis murmured, and then kissed him. For a stunned moment, Prompto was completely still. Then he opened his mouth, returning the kiss, wrapping his arms and legs around Noct to pull them closer together.

“Holy shit,” Prompto said, gasping between kisses. “Noct…how…I don’t…”

“Not good?” Noctis asked, pulling his hands out from under Prompto’s shirt.

“No. It’s good. It’s good. Just a surprise, that’s all.”

Noctis grunted and pressed his lips to Prompto’s neck, the photographer’s hands tangling in his hair.

“I just don’t get it,” Prompto blurted out.

Noctis pulled away again, to study Prompto, his blonde hair a mess, his shirt pushed up to show his stomach, his lips flushed from kissing, his fair skin in the dim light.

“What don’t you get?” Noctis asked.

“Just…” Prompto squirmed beneath Noctis is a way the prince found almost irresistible. “Why me?”

“Why not you?”

Prompto gave him an uneasy shrug.

“I don’t waste my time,” Noctis said. “I wouldn’t be doing this if I didn’t want you.”

“What about Luna?” Prompto asked, shifting his weight nervously.

“That marriage is for Lucis’s sake.” He placed his palm flat on Prompto’s exposed stomach, the skin smooth and hot beneath Noctis’s hand. “This is for me.” He hesitated. “If you want.”

“Yeah, I want,” Prompto said, grinning. “Just…still getting over the shock.”

“Good.” Noctis leaned down to kiss him again. And he discovered that Prompto was just as playful here as he was anywhere else, but also surprisingly passionate, and that he held nothing back. Unlike Noctis, who, even when he was inside the man he loved, held something of himself separate, his heart a kept secret. He’d also had to bite back those three words when he came, pressing his face into the curve of Prompto’s neck so he wouldn’t have to look in his best friend’s eyes and find out just how much of his desperate love was reciprocated, if any.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks for reading <3


	5. Lestallum nights part 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Short update today but there will be a longer one tomorrow, promise! And a side dish of Gladnis, probably. <3

_Prompto sagged in his restraints, listening to the steady clump of the MT’s armored feet outside the door to his prison. All the other cells were empty, and this whole facility had an air of hollowness, of wrongness, that set him even more on edge._

_He realized how lucky he was, to have escaped such a fate as a child, to have known Noct and Gladio and Ignis. To have loved them—Gladio and Ignis the brothers he’d never had, and Noct, who was so much more._

_“Do you think that he loves you?” Ardyn asked, barely contained delight in his voice._

_Prompto closed his eyes and refused to answer._

_“Did he ever tell you he loved you?”_

_“If you know all this, then you know the answer to that,” Prompo snapped. “Why do you even care?”_

_“Oh, I don’t,” Ardyn assured him, cheerful as ever. “I just think it’s fun to watch.”_

_“Why are you doing this?” Prompto had asked this question many times before, and had gotten answers ranging from casual and irreverent to menacing and ominous._

_“It’s like a puppet show,” Ardyn said. “More fun now that I know what strings to pull.”_

_You won’t pull mine, Prompto thought. He was weary, his muscles heavy and aching with fatigue, his skin bruised and chafed where the many restraints dug into him._

_“Noctis is going to make you pay for this,” he said. “He’s gonna come for you.”_

_“I’m counting on it,” Ardyn said, and he sounded quietly satisfied._

…

Of course Noct fell asleep right after sex. Of course he did. Prompto didn’t know why he would expect anything else. And it was nice, having Noctis in his arms, his soft breath regular and soothing, as the sweet Lestallum night drifted in through their open window.

He glanced at the window. They were on the third floor, and he hoped that meant no one had heard them fucking, had heard him begging Noctis for more, the needy whimpers he was making by the end, while the prince never seemed to completely lose his composure.

Afterward, he’d wanted to ask so many questions. What does this mean? What does this make us? How long have you wanted this? And most importantly—Why me? Prompto knew he wasn’t worthy, and had been shocked into stillness when Noct first kissed him, because it seemed such an impossibility he’d never even let himself imagine it. But now, it was a real thing, it had happened, and the prince was sleeping in his arms on a bed barely wide enough for the two of them to lay tangled together.

He carefully untangled himself and flicked on the bedside light. Noctis, a notoriously heavy sleeper, didn’t stir. He picked up his camera and studied Noctis through it, the lenses giving him a much needed distance from the prince. Here, behind the camera, he was calm, he was in control of his world.

Noct’s eyes were closed, his lashes long and dark. The blankets had slipped down to expose a pale shoulder, and his black hair was disheveled, a stark contrast against the white pillow.

Prompto felt guilty for snapping a few pictures of the defenseless prince, but he needed something, some reminder that this night had happened. That for at least a few sweet moments, lost in the feel of skin on skin, the intoxicating kisses, he had been wanted. He had been good enough.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks for reading!


	6. Camping. Again.

_Gladiolus kicked the lifeless MT out of the way so Ignis, trailing behind him with his cane, wouldn’t trip over it._

_“Another dead one?” Ignis asked, at the sound of the clatter._

_He grunted in affirmation._

_“We must be on the right track, then.” Ignis sounded sure, but Gladiolus still felt uneasy._

_“Feels like we’re going in circles,” he growled. This facility was sprawling and endless, always another corridor, always another locked door. It was cold and almost vibrated with an aura of wrongness that set Gladio’s teeth on edge._

_“Two rats in a maze,” chuckled Ardyn, his disembodied voice coming from the ceiling._

_“Where is he?” Ignis hissed._

_“I don’t know. Can’t see him.”_

_“Tell me,” Ardyn crooned, “how does it feel to have failed your king?”_

_“This isn’t over yet,” Ignis said. His gloved hands were curled into fists, but his voice came out calm and controlled._

_“The king’s advisor.” Ardyn sounded amused, cheerful even. “I’ll bet you didn’t_ see _this one coming.” He chortled, as though delighted with his own joke._

_“Once we get Noctis, we’re coming for you,” Gladiolus growled._

_“Oh, but there’s doubt in your heart. Gladdy—can I call you Gladdy?—can you honestly say it hasn’t occurred to you to turn back? Not once?”_

_He felt Ignis’s attention keenly on him, and he drew in a shuddering breath, shaking with fury. “I would never,” he growled._

_“There are some things more precious than duty,” Ardyn said. “I hope you don’t figure that out too late.”_

_Gladio stood straight. “Is that a fucking threat?”_

_But Ardyn’s presence was gone from the hallway, as though a chill fog had lifted._

_“Gladiolus,” Ignis said, so gently. “Our time grows short. We need to keep moving.”_

…

“Fifty gil says those kids don’t catch any fish,” Gladiolus grumbled, setting up the camp chairs on the runed surface of the campsite.

“That would be an unwise bet,” Ignis said, turning to the stove so Gladiolus wouldn’t see the corner of his mouth twitching upward.

“Does Noct need some new tackle or something?” Gladiolus wondered. “He hasn’t caught anything the last few times he’s been out.”

Ignis forced himself not to laugh. Gladio might have a keen eye on the battlefield, but in matters of the heart, it was a little different. Something Ignis often found himself grateful for.

“Do you think they’re lost? I don’t see them out on the pier,” Gladiolus said, staring into the rapidly darkening countryside. “I’d better go get them.”

“I’m sure that’s not necessary,” Ignis said.

“There are daemons out,” Gladiolus held out his hand and his greatsword materialized in his grasp, solidifying out of thin air. He rested it on one shoulder, handling it as though it weighed nothing, but Ignis knew how heavy such weapons were.

He stepped in Gladiolus’s way. “Give them a few moments. I’m sure they’ll be back.”

Gladio gave him a puzzled stare. “I thought you were supposed to be the cautious one, Iggy.”

“I am,” he said, indignantly.

Gladio stepped forward. He always moved like a lion, all sinew and muscle and deadly grace, and Ignis was reminded just what his caution had cost him. The price of his devotion to duty.

“I don’t have time for this,” Gladiolus growled. “Gotta find Noct and—”

“They’re fucking, Gladio,” Ignis said. “I wouldn’t interrupt if I were you.”

“What?” The shock on the big man’s face was rather comical, Ignis thought, and his sword dissolved into the night air as his concentration slipped. “Really?”

“Yes.”

Gladio began laughing, a deep, throaty mirth that made Ignis smile a little too widely. “That little shit,” he said, fondly. “Can’t believe he’s getting more ass than I am.”

Ignis raised an eyebrow. “Is he? I seem to remember you being out until sunrise last time we were in Lestallum.”

“Oh.” Gladio gave him a cocky grin. “So you do still care.”

“Of course not.” Ignis pulled off his gloves, turning to the stove, more irritated than he should be by Gladiolus’s cheeky confidence. Yes, he still cared, yes, he would probably always care. But he could do without humiliating himself by admitting it.

“Hey.” Gladiolus put his hands on Ignis’s shoulders, and the adviser stiffened, the spatula in his hand freezing in place over the frying pan.

“Don’t,” Ignis said, softly.

“I still care too,” Gladiolus said, his touch lingering for a few seconds before his hands fell away. “I spent the night sleeping in the chair in Iris’s room. Poor kid’s having nightmares.”

Ignis couldn’t deny his relief, but he knew that it was only a matter of time, that Gladiolus had had lovers in the past, and that he would have them again in the future. They had been working together for years now, the two of them doing more to raise Noctis than the king himself was able to. Ignis wasn’t that much older than the prince, but he’d shown enough potential to distinguish himself at a very young age. Gladiolus was the one who’d taught Ignis to fight, whose insights and advice had been invaluable over the years. They relied on each other completely, and if things were ever to break down between them, it was Noctis who would suffer. Better to keep their relationship amiable and professional than to try for something more only to fail in both love and duty.

“There’s a tea that might help her sleep,” Ignis said. “I’ll try to find the ingredients for it next time we’re in Lestallum.”

“Thanks.” Gladiolus ducked down to enter the tent, then paused, and turned back to Ignis. “And hey, if you ever want me to take you ‘fishing,’ I will. For old times’ sake.”

Ignis opened his mouth, but couldn’t think of a response, as Gladio climbed into the tent. After all these years, Gladiolus was still the only person who could render him entirely speechless.

#

The tree was scratchy against Prompto’s back, Noctis’s body hot and hard against his front. But the prince was kissing him with the kind of ferocity that made him forget the roughness of the bark and the cold bite of the night air on his exposed skin.

“Gladio’s gonna be mad,” he gasped between kisses, “if you don’t bring back any fish.”

“Eh. He’ll get over it.” Noct’s attention was on undoing Prompto’s belt buckle. “Don’t worry so much.”

Noctis caught his mouth in another kiss, and Prompto leaned into the attention, slipping his hand into Noct’s pants and drinking in the sound of his low, husky moan. Noct had this way of tuning every channel in Prompto’s brain to static, and everything he wanted to ask and say just slipped away because there wasn’t room for anything beyond this series of moments, each hotter and brighter than the last, crashing over him all at once at the end.

Afterwards, Noct just held him for a few moments, and that felt good too.

“Have you ever done this before?” he asked, when his brain started to work again. “With anyone else, I mean.”

Noct leaned against the tree and shoved his hands in his pockets, his body all long, slender lines and graceful limbs even as he slouched like a bored teenager. “No,” he said.

“Damn.” Prompto gave him a cheeky grin. “I’m your first, huh? Lucky me.”

Noctis slugged him gently in the shoulder. “You are lucky.”

“I know it.” He had, in fact, just gotten a blowjob from his best friend, the prince (king?) of Lucis. Lucky didn’t begin to describe it. He wanted to ask again—why me?—and let all his insecurities fly out. But he was a master at keeping these things inside. He’d had years of practice pretending to belong, pretending he was worthy of wherever he found himself. This would be no different.


	7. Of love and duty

_Noctis awoke with a start, sitting up straight and gasping for air. His surroundings were the same, dismal gray walls, cold, sterile air. He pushed himself up off the mattress and got to his feet._

_“You’d better get moving,” Ardyn said. “Prompto might not have much time.”_

_“I’m going to kill you,” he muttered, teeth gritted as he strode back out into the hallway._

_“On second thought, don’t hurry. Prompto and I are becoming fast friends. Or rather—he and my MTs. I personally don’t like to get blood on my hands.”_

_“You sick fuck,” Noctis growled, as he ran through the endless corridors. “If you hurt him I swear I’ll tear you apart.”_

_“So ungrateful.” Ardyn sounded wounded, but the words rang with his usual insincerity. “I’m doing all this for you.”_

…

Noctis stood on the bridge leading to Altissia’s Ministerial Quarter. It was late, approaching midnight, and the moon cast a subdued glow from behind a thin layer of clouds. Beneath him, a gondola drifted, the soft splash of its oars on the water and the murmured conversation of the people aboard.

Ducking into shadow, he waited until the couple strolling hand in hand past him had disappeared into a bar. He summoned a dagger, the weapon taking shape in his hand, long and wicked sharp, and threw it across the bridge. It buried itself in a plaster wall across the water, and he warped to it, over the heads of the guards watching the entrance to the palace.

Lunafreya, he knew, would be somewhere up high, somewhere where she could see the water and meditate in the sunlight. He made his way across the Ministerial Quarter and up the side of the palace, until he was opposite a tower with a warm glow emanating from the windows. He warped across the water, and perched on one of the windowsills, peering in.

Ravus was pacing, his heavy silver boots clunking on the floor, dressed in full uniform even to see his sister. His metal hand was curled into a fist.

“Noctis is in the city,” he said.

“I know,” Luna said. She was sitting in a plush chair, hunched over, but she sat up straight to meet Ravus’s gaze. Like always, it seemed like the light in the room concentrated upon her, a gentle highlighting of her divinity. “I’ve been waiting for him.”

“Why?” Ravus ran his hand through his hair, scowling at her.

“Because he is my king,” she said, simply. “It is his calling.”

Noctis felt the weight of her words as though they were heavy stones held in his hands.

“The king of what?” Ravus asked, his voice low and mocking. “Insomnia has fallen. Lucis is gone.”

“The King of Light,” Luna said, with the same quiet confidence she’d always had. Noctis remembered when they’d been children, and how it had seemed that Luna knew everything there was to know about the world.

Ravus gave a dismissive huff, resuming his pacing.

“Our road is not an easy one,” Luna said, glancing at the window when Ravus’s back was turned and giving the briefest of nods. “”But I am strong enough and he is strong enough to bear this burden. When we are married, we will retake Lucis, and we will bring the light back to this world.”

Crouched on the windowsill, Noctis let her words warm him, flow through him with the same glowing sweetness as her Oracle’s healing magic once did. If she believed it so fervently, surely he could too.

“Sister.” Ravus knelt by her chair and took her hand in his. “This is foolishness. For my sake, for our mother’s sake, let this go. There are people who love you, and it kills us to see you bear this burden.”

Luna put her palm to his cheek and kissed his forehead. “Sometimes love is the price of duty.”

Ravus pressed his head to her hand, and she ran her fingers through his hair. Her eyes went once again to the window, and Noctis got the strange feeling she could not only see him, but see through him, see everything he thought and felt and loved and wanted.

Could she know that those were Regis’s words as well? The words he would always say, on missed birthdays and after the meals Noctis took alone or with Ignis while the king was in his study with his advisors.

“I love you, Noctis,” he would say. “Never doubt that. But love is often the price of duty. Better you learn that now.”

Love is the price of duty. Noctis could still remember what bitter words they were to hear, and now he can almost taste the bitterness as he imagines saying them to Prompto. Prompto, whose parents never made it to his graduation, who came home every night to an empty house, who lived for years in a kind of isolation Noctis couldn’t imagine. All that so that he could someday find a lover who would treat him just the same way?

Love is the price of duty, my son. What is the happiness of one man, against the needs of an entire country?

#

“Haha—yeah!” Prompto did a little victory dance in front of the arcade machine, as it printed out a very long line of tickets. He gathered the tickets in an unruly bundle and carried it to the front, laying it out on the desk.

“Whaddya want?” asked the bored clerk.

Prompto scanned the shelves. Pencil erasers, glow sticks, and…. “Oh! Sweet! I’ll take the Lord Vexxos statue.”

The attendant shrugged and began counting tickets. It took him quite some time, and when he finished a line had formed behind Prompto, mostly squirming, spoiled kids clutching enough tickets for a pack of gum.

“One Wind-Up Lord Vexxos coming right up.” The clerk reached up and took it off the shelf, dusting it off and handing it to Prompto. “Don’t think anyone’s ever had that many tickets before.”

“What can I say?” Prompto grinned and spread his arms. “I have the reflexes of a cat.”

“There you are,” Ignis said, catching Prompto by the door. “Have you been down here all day?”

Prompto shrugged. It’s not like he had anything better to do while Noctis and the others attended to boring diplomatic duties. “I beat the high score on Justice Monsters Five. I won this.” He waved the figurine at Ignis. “You think Noct will like it?”

Ignis snatched it from him. “Be careful. This is a collectors’ item. A rare one, at that.”

“Seriously?” Prompto asked.

“Yes. It’s worth quite a bit of gil. I know a place you can sell it, if you’ve a mind.”

Prompto crossed his arms. It wouldn’t be the same, giving Noctis something he hadn’t won with arcade tokens, but maybe he could buy something better with the money…

“How much?” he asked. He could always go back and win something else later.

#

Blindfolded with a tie stolen from Ignis’s suitcase, Noctis held on to Prompto’s hand, and let Prompto lead him down a hushed hallway.

“Where are we going?” he asked.

“The whole point of being blindfolded is that you don’t know,” Prompto replied, grinning as he unlocked the door to the hotel suite. “Ta da!”

He pulled the blindfold off, and watched Noctis take in their surroundings. The prince appeared unimpressed, and a little dismayed, looking around the room. Although it was once of the nicer places Altissia had to offer, it must be shabby compared to the palace Prompto had never been allowed to visit. He wished he’d thought of that earlier. He had just wanted to do something nice for Noctis, and a suite on the top floor of the hotel seemed like a good gesture to make. Expressing his complicated feelings about Noctis in a way that didn’t require any words.

“I know it’s not the palace,” he said, clearing his throat. “But I won this thing at the arcade and Ignis said it was worth something and we sold it so I had some money and—”

“Prompto,” Noctis said. “It’s perfect.”

When he glanced over, Noct was actually smiling, a real, genuine smile, not his usual disinterested smirk.

“We should go to the arcade tomorrow,” Prompto said, grinning back. “I’ll kick your ass at Justice Monsters Five.”

Noct snorted skeptically. “Sure.”

“I’m really good now. You’ll see.”

“Better than you are at King’s Knight, I hope.”

“Hey.” Prompto puffed out his chest in mock anger. Now his pride was being insulted. “I can take you any day.”

“Mmm. Sure you can.”

“Let’s go. Right now. You and me. We’ll—Hey!” Prompto found himself being lifted off the floor and flung easily over one of Noctis’s slender shoulders. “Dude, you are freakishly strong.”

Noct chuckled, tossing Prompto on his back on the bed.

“Quit manhandling me,” Promto said, flailing more dramatically than necessary to make Noctis laugh.

“I forgot,” Noctis said, his voice dark and husky as he climbed on the bed too, leaning over Prompto. “You’re delicate.”

“Delicate?” Prompto squawked, half-indignant, half-hypnotized by the decidedly predatory gleam in Noct’s eyes. “I’ll have you know I beat a bunch of little kids at video games today at the arcade.”

“My hero.”

Prompto laughed. “You’re the hero, bro. I’m just the sidekick.”

“Not tonight.” Noctis pulled the tie he’d been blindfolded with out of his pocket. It was black, like all of Ignis’s things, with tiny silver diamonds patterned on it. “Hold out your hands.”

“Kinky,” Prompto teased, but did as he was told, partly because he was intrigued, but also because the prince had this way of saying things like they had already happened, and you really had no choice but to do what he wanted.

Noct tied Prompto’s hands together and set them on the pillow above his head. He sat back on his heels and studied Prompto so intently the blond began to squirm, trying not to blush, even though Noct had seen him in much more intimate situations than this.

Then Noctis placed his palm on Prompto’s chest, over his heart. “There’s no tomorrow,” he said. “There’s no Lucis. There’s no crown. Tonight, there’s only you and me.”

“That’s how it’s always been,” Prompto said, caught by a sudden melancholy. “None of that other stuff matters to me. You’re what matters, Noct.”

“I…” Noctis made a sharp noise of frustration, and Prompto knew that words were failing him, like they sometimes did.

“Enough talking,” Prompto said, with a levity he didn’t feel. He squirmed just enough to remind Noct that he was restrained. “What do I have to do to get you to fuck me?”

Noctis growled—like, actually growled—low in his throat, before pouncing, locking his lips onto Prompto’s throat and kissing his way downward, licking and caressing, his attention placed everywhere but where Prompto wanted it most.

“You’re perfect, you know,” Noctis said, his cheek against Prompto’s spread thigh, and while Prompto was desperate just to get Noctis to touch his cock already after teasing him for so long, he also wanted to drink in those words. He still wanted Noctis to say things like that when they weren’t having sex, but he knew better than to wish for too much. He knew to be happy with what he was given—it was more than he deserved.

“Just touch my dick already, dude,” he said, pretending at a playful irreverence. “This isn’t fair.”

Noctis started laughing so hard he almost fell off the bed, the kind of laugh Prompto hadn’t heard since well before the king died. Prompto couldn’t help it, he laughed too, because the sound was so beautiful, like crystals hanging in the air, and he wondered how it was that everyone in the world couldn’t see the kind of light that shone in Noctis’s heart, the light that captivated him every time.

#

When Prompto woke the next morning, Noctis was already gone. Fishing, Ignis told him, so he made his way down to the shady dock beneath the upper levels of the city. Noctis wasn’t there, though.

He was about to turn back when he heard, distantly, the familiar sound of warping magic. He stood on the edge of the dock and peered down the long tunnel. Noctis was doing some sort of complicated training exercise that involved warping rapidly back and forth across the water, leaping from ledge to ledge, and then climbing what looked like a pretty sheer, sloping brick wall. It was like some kind of crazy improvised obstacle course, and Prompto watched for a while because he liked watching Noct move, the lazy grace that made it seem like he was never really trying all that hard at anything.

Noct’s sword landed on the pier beside him, sticking through the wood, and then Noct was there himself, breathing hard, shirt soaked with sweat.

“Damn,” Prompto said. “You’re awesome, Noct.”

Noctis didn’t smile. “I need to get back. I have to meet with the First Secretary.”

“Oh. Okay.” A little of Prompto’s happy, bubbly feeling deflated, because Noctis didn’t seem glad to see him.

“I’m going to make her hand over Luna.”

Oh.

Prompto nodded, forcing a smile. “That’s good. We can make sure she’s safe.” And because Noct just stood there, not saying anything, he kept babbling. “I’ve always wanted to meet Luna. I mean, Lady Lunafreya. I mean—”

“My fiancee.”

“Yeah. I hear she’s a wonderful person. You know, being the Oracle and all. And—”

Noctis kissed him, pulling him close and pressing their bodies together. “I’m not good with words,” he said. “You know that.”

“I know. I know.” They were still standing close enough to touch, Prompto trying not to breathe for fear that he would start to come apart. “You’re trying to tell me that you’re going to get hitched, so it’s time for me to step out of the way, right?”

Noct made a low, frustrated noise. “Yes. No. Prompto, I…”

“It’s fine,” Prompto said, putting his hands on Noct’s arms. “I understand. We’ll always be friends.”

Noct looked up at the patch of sky they could see through an opening in the tunnel. “I really have to go,” he said. “I’m sorry.”

And before Prompto could say anything, Noctis had a dagger in his hand. It flew upward to bury itself in the side of the building above them, and with a flash of blue magic, Noct was gone.

In his mind, Prompto knew that theirs would be a political marriage, that it was Noct’s duty to marry Lunafreya and churn out cute little princes and princesses who could carry on the royal lineage. But…

“Because marriages are usually made for the good of the country and not for love, many kings and queens have a lover on the side,” Ignis had said on the boat ride from Lucis, the comment disguised as a simple commentary on the nature of political marriage, but he’d cast a meaningful glance at Prompto as he’d said it.

Those lovers were probably very different from Prompto, though. The difference between a rare, elegant breed of feline and the kind of scruffy cat found in back alleys eating out of the trash. He’d never been good enough to truly belong to Noctis. The past few weeks had been a strange and wonderful dream, but now he was waking up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I would totally warp everywhere around Altissia if I could.


	8. The King of Light

_“I hope you know I don’t enjoy this,” Ardyn said, as his MT hit Prompto in the ribs with an armored fist. Pain shot through Prompto’s side, and he clenched his teeth._

_“Too hard,” Ardyn said to the MT. “You don’t want to break him.”_

_Not an inch of the demonic construct was uncovered, its clunky armor sealed together at the joints. Even its face was obscured by an eerie, emotionless mask._

_Another hit—this time to Prompto’s jaw. He gasped at the pain searing through the side of his face, blood trickling from his lower lip._

_“Yes. There’s a pretty picture.” Ardyn gave him a delighted smile. “Fit for a king.”_

_Ardyn picked something up from a side table, and Prompto began struggling when he saw it was his beloved camera. “Don’t touch that,” he shouted. “That’s mine.”_

_Ardyn pointed it at him, and he heard the tell-tale click of the shutter as the villain took a photo. “I’ll see that this gets to the king,” he said._

_“He’s coming for me,” Prompto said, though he struggled to believe it himself._

_“Is he now?” Ardyn opened his eyes wide in feigned surprise._

_Prompto clenched his fists helplessly. “Yeah.”_

_“He’s here to retrieve the Crystal. His sworn duty as king. Do you really think he’ll stray from his calling to rescue the weakest member of his royal entourage? Gladiolus is his shield. Ignis is his advisor. But what are you, exactly, except maybe passably good in bed?”_

_Prompto closed his eyes against the hot tears that threatened to fall. He would not let Ardyn see him cry._

_“We’re friends,” he said. “Noctis would never leave a friend behind.” But his voice sounded weak and unconvincing, even to his own ears._

…

Prompto spent the two days after the Leviathan encounter taking care of Ignis. The man had the composure of a saint, Prompto thought, and someone who didn’t know him would probably think he had been blind all his life, and totally used to it. Prompto, however, could tell how hard it was on him. And he thought maybe Ignis would want to talk about it. About his feelings and everything. Wasn’t that supposed to help? Wasn’t it supposed to make things better? Prompto was desperate for anything that would make things better.

Asking Ignis to talk, however, had made everything much worse. He’d not only refused, but put up a stony front, barely tolerating Prompto’s presence.

“I don’t need you to tie my fucking shoes, Prompto,” he snapped, at one point, putting his hand on Prompto’s back as the blond knelt to tie the laces on his fancy black dress shoes.

“I know,” Prompto said, trying for lighthearted and failing. “It’s just that I’m so good at it. Y’know. Lace tying. Tying knots.”

“Prompto,” Ignis said, and he sounded beyond weary. “Get out.”

Prompto didn’t need to be told twice.

Where the hell was Gladiolus? he wondered. The shield had been gone, securing accommodations for the next leg of their journey, but did it really need to take so long? He understood why Noctis had hardly spoken since waking up, and why Ignis was being so difficult, and he didn’t blame them, but he was still losing his mind.

He steeled himself before poking his head in the next door. Noctis was sitting on the bed, slouched against the pillows, staring at his phone.

“Hey, buddy,” he said, in a tentative, gentle tone, like he was talking to an agitated chocobo who might end him with one kick if he made a misstep. “How’s it going?”

“Fine,” Noctis muttered, without looking up from his phone.

“Great. Well, if you want to talk, you know where I am.” He wasn’t actually sure Noct knew where he was sleeping, seeing as how ‘His Royal Highness’ hadn’t even left the hotel room, and instead Prompto had to bring all his meals in for him. But, he doubted it mattered, since Noct didn’t even look at him, just grunted a vague goodbye.

So Prompto had dinner alone, and then brought some for Ignis, setting it on a side table in the advisor’s room with only the clunk of the tray and the rattle of dishes to announce its presence.

“Thank you,” Ignis said.

“You want me to—”

“No.”

“Okay, then.” Prompto backed away, easing towards the door. “I’ll just…”

“I would appreciate it,” Ignis said.

#

In the middle of the night he heard a soft rapping on his window. Noct was just outside it, dangling from the one hand he had gripping the hilt of his sword. Like always, he made the pose look effortless.

Prompto opened the window and let him in. “You couldn’t use the door?” he asked.

Noctis shrugged, looking around the dark room splashed in moonlight. Of course he couldn’t be bothered to come up with some actual words. Of course. Prompto sighed.

“Look, Noct…” Prompto leaned against the wall, facing him. “Don’t take this the wrong way, but…it’s been a long couple of days. And I’m really getting tired of the silent treatment. I know you’ve been through a lot, but hey, me too. I just can’t deal with it tonight, okay? I just—”

Noctis kissed him, and it was more confusing than anything else, but even so his body responded before he could think, meeting Noctis’s searching tongue, hands gripping the prince’s hips to pull him closer.

“I need you,” Noctis whispered, hot breath in his ear, and that was all it took. Any sort of coherent resistance dissolved away beneath Noct’s desperate kisses.

It felt almost like fighting, the furious heat between them, Prompto pinned to the bed, Noctis rough and passionate, biting at his shoulder, fingernails sweeping down his sides, fingers digging hard into his hips as they bucked against each other.

Noctis was quieter in bed than any lover Prompto had ever had—not that there had been many—although he sometimes liked to talk dirty and try to make Prompto blush. Not a difficult task, but tonight the only sound was his ragged breathing, and then at the end, when he said Prompto’s name.

There had come a point in the battle against the Hydrean where the winds picked up and the MTs Prompto had been fighting were swept to sea, and he’d looked up to see Noctis and Leviathan in a deadly standoff. Noctis had been surrounded by a glowing ring of weapons, a tiny spark of light against the sheer size of the goddess. He looked like a deity himself, weaving and dancing among the watery attacks, calling forth his shimmering arsenal.

How could Noctis be both that indomitable creature of light, and the man who now lay so helplessly beside him, staring up at the dingy motel room’s ceiling?

“Altissia was destroyed because of me,” Noctis said, breaking the uneasy silence. “A whole city, gone, just like that. Luna is dead. Ignis is blind. All because of orders I gave. If I don’t want to talk, it’s because I don’t want to be responsible for any more death.”

“We got a lot of people out,” Prompto said. “Between me, Gladio, and Ignis, plus the Altissian police, we did a pretty good job evacuating the city.”

“Don’t,” Noct murmured. “As a king—” His voice broke, but when he spoke again, it was steadier, quiet and firm. “As a king, it’s my duty to carry those deaths. To take responsibility for them and to never forget them.”

Prompto tried to think of a good answer for that. Something smart Ignis would say, or something comforting Gladiolus would come up with.

“That’s shitty, Noct,” he said. It was the best he could come up with. “I mean it. That king stuff really sucks.”

Noctis chuckled. “You’re right. It does.” He wrapped his arm around Prompto and pulled him close. “You look tired. Get some sleep.”

Prompto didn’t want this moment to end, the press of their skin, the warm, easy intimacy. But he was exhausted, and it wasn’t long before he closed his eyes and let drowsiness overtake him.


	9. Loose Ends

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For this chapter, I'm going to pretend that Noctis, Gladiolus, and Ignis found and destroyed the thing that keeps Noct from using his magic before they found Prompto. Just because.

Every inch of Prompto’s body ached, and he winced as the MTs lifted him off the floor and fastened him to the same contraption he’d been hanging on before. It held his arms out like he was on a cross, the restraints cold and hard-edged steel.

Ardyn walked towards him, cheerful as ever, removing his hat as he approached and bowing in greeting. “I’m a big enough man to admit when I’m wrong,” he said. “And how wrong I am.” He chuckled. “Noctis is on his way as we speak.”

Prompto’s heart gave a pitiful little leap, most of his resolve sapped away.

“I am curious, though,” Ardyn said. “How did you come to fall off that train?”

“Don’t remember,” Prompto said, his voice hoarse. Though he did remember, felt Noctis’s hand push against his chest as clearly as he felt the restraints binding him now.

“You always were the clumsy one, I recall,” Ardyn said, though he didn’t sound convinced. “Tell me, what happened before that? Before my imperials attacked?”

Prompto shook his head. He’d been fighting to suppress the memory of Noctis on the train, chasing him down with a sword while the other passengers stared in horror.

“Don’t remember,” he said.

“You must have hit your head harder than I thought,” Ardyn said, with mock concern. “Let me remind you. Noctis found out your little secret, and then he tried to kill you. My forces arrived, providing a diversion, but he caught up to you again and pushed you off the train.”

“No,” Prompto said, shaking his head wildly.

“No, I’m wrong?” asked Ardyn. “Or no, you wish it were different?”

“He’s coming for me,” Prompto said, through gritted teeth.

“Oh, but of course he is. Noctis isn’t one to leave a loose end hanging.” Ardyn gave him an eerie, wicked grin. “He knows that fall didn’t kill you. He’s coming to finish the job.”

“He wouldn’t,” Prompto said, but he thought of those moments on the train, of Noct’s hand around his throat and the look in his eyes, and doubted.

Footsteps sounded from somewhere nearby, and voices, but he couldn’t make out what they were saying. Ardyn glanced in that direction and smiled.

“As much as I love reunions, I may have to miss this one. You’ve been a model prisoner, Prompto, it’s really been a pleasure.” He inclined his head towards Prompto, tipping his hat. “Say hello to Noctis for me, will you?”

#

As soon as Ardyn had disappeared through the side exit, the central door opened. Noctis stood there, flanked by Ignis and Gladiolus.

Time seemed to crawl by, just as it did in those moments when he’d fallen from the train. Noct holding out his hand, his favorite dagger materializing in his palm. The flight, the dagger glinting white beneath the harsh fluorescents as it sped towards Prompto. He thought maybe his life would flash before his eyes, but it didn’t. There was only Noctis, watching him across the room with a kind of desperation he didn’t understand.

The knife made a solid thunk as it landed—not in his heart, but in the table beneath his right arm, and in a breath of blue magic, Noctis was there too, standing close enough that Prompto could feel the warmth of the prince’s breath on his cheek.

“I’m sorry,” Noct whispered. The hands that had thoughtlessly conjured a sword to attack Prompto with were now gently placed on either side of his face. “I’m so sorry.”

“Let’s get him down from there,” Gladiolus said, putting a hand on Noct’s shoulder and prying him away. “Then you can have your touching reunion.”

#

Noctis paced the corridor outside the dormitory; he’d been banished while Ignis healed Prompto, but he could still hear them clearly through the wall. Clearly enough to hear the laundry list of Prompto’s injuries: broken rib, sprained wrist, bruises, lacerations, possible concussion…

But there was more than that. Prompto was afraid of Noctis now. It was clear in the way his eyes widened like a trapped animal’s any time Noctis got close. And who could blame him? Noct was the one who had chased his best friend through a train with a sword in his hand. If he had actually caught Prompto…he refused to think about that.

“Fuck!” He hit the wall, leaving a satisfying dent in the metal, but the throbbing in his hand didn’t do anything to calm him.

“Hey.” Gladiolus stepped out into the hallway. “What’s going on?”

“Nothing,” Noctis muttered.

“Doesn’t look like nothing,” Gladiolus said, glancing at the dent in the wall. “Look, I’m pissed too. But we gotta be smart about it, or we’re never gonna get our revenge.”

Noctis breathed out a long sigh. “I know.”

“They’re about done,” Gladio said. “If you wanna go back in. I’m gonna see if we can’t find something to eat in this godsforsaken place.”

“Thanks,” Noctis murmured.

Inside, Prompto was sleeping on the bed furthest from the door, and Ignis was putting potions away in their pack.

“Let him sleep,” Ignis whispered. “He’s exhausted.”

“I will.” Noct stood over the bed. Prompto always had a touch of the fae in his appearance, and he looked both young and ethereal, eyes closed, his skin fair with a handful of freckles, the bruises healed away by Ignis’s potions.

Shrugging off his jacket, Noctis climbed into the bed behind Prompto and put his arms around his sleeping lover, pulling him to his chest.

“Hey,” Prompto murmured, his voice thick with sleep.

“Hey yourself,” Noctis replied, breathing in Prompto’s heady scent.

“If you’re trying to kill me, you’re really doing a bad job of it,” Prompto murmured. “And you’re usually so good at stuff like that.”

“I didn’t mean it,” he whispered.

Prompto turned in his arms so they were lying face to face, and gave him an easy smile that seemed only half-sincere. “I know,” he said. “Ignis explained it to me. Another one of Ardyn’s dirty tricks, right?”

Noctis clenched his fists. “I should have seen through it,” he said. “I should have protected you, not thrown you to the wolves. If I could go back—”

“I know. Look, Noct…can we just not talk about it. Please?” The plea was so desperate, Prompto’s voice breaking on the last word, that Noctis wanted to cry.

“Sure,” he said, clearing his throat. “Sorry.”

Prompto closed his eyes again, nestling against Noctis’s chest and making a soft, contented sigh.

Noctis thought of the crystal, of his destiny and the shape it might take, of the vague prophesies and the nature of all Lucian magic. He held Prompto in his arms and wondered if he would walk away from this fortress, if he would see Insomnia again. If he would ever see another sunrise.

#

“Prompto,” Noctis whispered. His arms were warm and sturdy around Prompto, who felt safe and comfortable for the first time in a long time. Prompto’s eyelids fluttered open, but the room was almost pitch dark.

“Yeah?” he murmured.

“Don’t say anything,” Noctis said. “Just listen.”

“Okay.”

Noct was so silent for so long Prompto thought maybe the prince had fallen asleep. “I’m not going to live forever,” Noctis finally said. “In fact, I’m probably not going to live for very much longer.”

“Don’t say—”

“Just listen, Prompto. Please.”

He wanted to protest, as much for his own sake as for Noctis’s. But he nodded against the prince’s chest and kept quiet.

“I love you,” Noct said. “I might not have much time left, but what time I do have is yours. I know it’s not…I know that you deserve so much more, but—”

Prompto quieted him with a kiss, smiling against Noct’s lips and trying not to cry. “We’re gonna get out of here,” he said. “I know we are.”

#

But in the end, only three of them made it back to Lucis, where the nights grew longer and longer until they swallowed the days entirely, and those three had nothing left to sustain them but the fickle light of hope.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks for reading <3


	10. Return of the King

_Sometimes you give up hope all at once, like the last refrain of a song, dying into silence. That’s what happened to Gladiolus, not long after the sun set for the very last time. As the night lingered, he grew bitter, and fierce, cursing the names of the kings he once loved, the kings who had failed him, and the world._

_Sometimes you cling to an impossible hope so fervently that faith turns to foolishness and leads you astray. This is what happened to Ignis, who fights only with the light of his hope to sustain him, a light from within that he believes will burn away the darkness without. He is reckless now, scarred and lean, and how he is still alive is beyond anyone’s ability to guess, as he throws himself against the minions of the night again and again._

_Sometimes hope fades so slowly you barely notice it, like the frescoes on Altissia’s walls, worn away by generations of wandering hands until the plaster is smooth and flawless, the image gone. And that is what happened to Prompto, who hunted daemons through the endless night, and woke one dark morning to realize he could no longer remember the sound of Noctis’s laugh._

_The brotherhood has been broken. Their paths cross here and there, and then they continue on their lonely orbits around a distant star that may well already be dead._

_Ten years is a long time to hold onto light in a world plunged into darkness. Ten years is a long time to hold out hope._

#

Cindy found Prompto sitting in a booth in the Hammerhead diner, his head bent over the table as he disassembled his guns.

“Howdy,” she said, nodding wearily at him, before sliding into the booth beside him. He looked up from his rags and gun oil and the carefully arranged pieces of his heavy pistols to smile at her.

His blonde hair was grimy from travel, stubble showing on his cheeks. Desert dust clung to his black clothes and to the edges of his fingernails. He didn’t come into Hammerhead often, maybe once a month, preferring to hunt on the outskirts of Lestallum, where he was most needed, as daemons were constantly drawn to the only real bastion of humanity remaining.

“Howdy yourself,” he said.

“Y’know, Ignis was just in here a few days ago,” she said, because she knew that was the first thing on his mind and the last thing he’d be willing to ask. He and Gladiolus and Ignis might not have been the close knit group they once were, but they still cared. “Finished another hunt.”

Relief showed in Prompto’s smile, as he began polishing the barrel of his gun. “Good. I’m glad he’s still kicking.”

“Gladio’s still out there too,” she said, propping her feet up on the booth across from them. “He and his rangers took down an iron giant the other day.”

Prompto chuckled, wearily. “Can’t keep Gladio down.” His blue eyes found her face. “How are you?”

This is what she loved most about Prompto—that his first concern was never for hot water or if there was a place for him to sleep, but for the people he cared about. She knew she was on that list.

She had seen the way his hope faded, the slow dying of a fire, to embers and then to ash. And when it was gone, he’d turned to her. But when they made love, there would always come a moment when his eyes would be shut too tight, his face a mask of longing, and she would know he wasn’t thinking of her. Noctis’s ghost, between them in the mornings when he would dash off to his hunts without a kiss goodbye. He would be gone for days or weeks at a time, sleeping at the havens dotting the landscape, until his bullets ran out and he had to return.

She’d had no time to be hurt by it—keeping the trucks running was essential to their community’s survival. And she knew that if Prompto wasn’t capable of such powerful, enduring love, she wouldn’t have fallen for him anyway.

“I’m just peachy,” she said, with a genuine smile. Even with the history between them, she was happy to see him. To know he was alive and to have the chance to try and make him smile. “Tired though.”

“Take care of yourself,” Prompto said, slinging an arm around her shoulder and kissing her cheek. “We’d all be screwed without you, baby.”

She giggled, a girlish sound only Prompto ever seemed to be able to draw forth.

“I’ll make us some coffee,” he said, and she let him slide out of the booth. She was studying his guns, wondering if Cid could give them an upgrade, when she heard a crash. She looked up. Prompto had dropped a cup of coffee, the brown liquid pooling by his feet.

And then he was running, sprinting across the diner into the arms of the man who stood there all in black. The stranger’s pale hands clutched Prompto’s back, one sliding into his scruffy blonde hair, and she couldn’t tell if the noises she heard between their kisses were laughter or sobs.

She got up and quietly snuck out the back door. Best to give them their privacy. There would be time later to celebrate the return of the king.


	11. The Duscae Dust

_“The sun will rise again,” the king said, and everyone believed him._

...

Noctis watched as the water washed away the grime on Prompto’s skin and the desert dust in his hair. There was a steely edge to his lover now, a hardness that hadn’t been there before, but as the warm shower rained down on them, he could see the precious effervescence he’d fallen in love with in Prompto’s smile and his wide blue eyes.

“Did you miss me these last ten years?” Prompto asked.

Noctis chuckled, nuzzling Prompto’s wet neck. “Of course I did. What kind of question is that?”

Prompto smiled, and Noctis tried to take a mental snapshot, to lodge the image somewhere deep and primal in his brain, so that he could take it with him when he left everything else behind.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” Prompto asked. “Do I have something on my face?” He started scrubbing at his nose and Noctis laughed.

“You have something on your chin,” he said, brushing his thumb over the little patch of beard.

“Hey,” Prompto said, with a playful grin. “I’ve been told it makes me look dashing.”

Noctis let his soap slick hand travel downward over Prompto’s smooth skin. “It is dashing,” he said, solemnly.

They made love in the shower, just hands and lips and tongues and Prompto’s desperate, needy moans. Noctis felt that this was an undoing, just as much as his time in the Crystal had been, an unfolding of self to join with something—someone—else. The Crystal had given him purpose, and now Prompto was giving that purpose a meaning. To bring the light back to the people of Eos was his duty. To give Prompto a life of sunrises—that was his dearest desire.

And yet, as they tumbled into bed after, clean, hair still wet, he couldn’t bring himself to tell Prompto what he had to do. There would be time, he thought, holding his lover in his arms as they drifted into sleep.

#

“I need to get back to Insomnia,” Noctis said, to Ignis and Gladiolus and Prompto. The four of them had made camp at a nearby haven, to be away from prying eyes, and to prepare for the battle they all knew was coming.

The fire crackled mildly and the runes beneath their feet glowed their unearthly blue as the men sat in silence.

“Won’t be easy,” Gladiolus finally said. “But we’ll get you there.”

He had never really thought of Noctis as the person who would someday wear the crown and call the shots, except in the most abstract of ways. Noctis was a spoiled kid, in his mind, not someone you seat on a throne. But this new Noctis was a king, in ways that Gladiolus couldn’t name but were impossible to ignore. His bearing was that of royalty, resolute yet graceful, and his voice, though low, was unmistakably sovereign.

Crownless, in a ratty black T-shirt and dark pants, heavy combat boots kicking up the Duscae dust, he inspired the same awe his father once had. The heir of Lucis, ready to retake his throne. Gladiolus would have followed him anywhere.

Ignis and Prompto gave their assent, and they began to form a plan.

“This next part is harder to say,” Noctis said, when they’d finished drawing up their strategy. He stood, a proud silhouette in the flickering light. “The Crystal’s magic doesn’t come without a cost.”

“Then it’s true,” Ignis said, the sorrow in his voice stabbing straight to Gladiolus’s gut. “I had hoped otherwise.”

“What?” Prompto asked, scrambling to his feet. “What’s true? What are you talking about?”

Gladiolus could see the exact moment when Prompto’s heart broke, as Noctis explained the sacrifice he would have to make.

“I’ve made my peace with it,” Noctis said. “Or…I thought I had. Now that I see your faces again…”

The king faltered, and Prompto made a soft keening sound, his knees drawn to his chest. None of them had dry eyes.

“I am so grateful,” Noctis said, “for every minute you’ve been by my side.” He drew in a sharp breath, clenching his fist, his voice choked with emotion. “You guys are the best.”

For a moment they were all solemn and silent, united in their sorrow. Then Prompto got up.

“I can’t,” he said. “I won’t. I won’t let you, Noctis.”

“Prompto—”

“What’s wrong with you?” he shouted, jerking his head to glare at Gladiolus and Ignis. “Are you just going to let him do this stupid…crazy…awful…”

“There is no other way,” Ignis said.

“It’s okay.” Noctis put his hand on Prompto’s shoulder, and the gunslinger violently threw it off.

“It’s not okay,” Prompto said, stepping backwards. “It’s never going to be okay. I just…”

He backpedaled a few more steps, then took off running into the darkness. Noctis didn’t hesitate, darting after him.

Gladiolus stood to give chase, but Ignis held up his hand. “Noctis will catch him.”

“There might be daemons.”

“There’s a band of imps, a quarter of a mile to the west, but the coast is otherwise clear.”

“How do you know that?” Gladiolus asked, amazed.

“The magic of Lucis has not forsaken me entirely.” Ignis got up, and Gladiolus watched him in the firelight. The lines of his body were leaner, giving him an edgy, hungry allure. He moved with the same controlled grace Gladiolus remembered from their early days together, but it seemed he had transformed from a scrappy intellectual to a truly dangerous man.

“I can’t help but worry,” Ignis said. “This is hard on all of us, but for Prompto…”

“Noct’s all he’s got.”

“I can’t imagine what it must be like for him.”

“I can,” Gladiolus rumbled.

Ignis turned towards him, raising an eyebrow. “What does that mean?”

“It means I’ve spent the last ten years seeing you run straight into danger,” he said, quietly, staring down at his hands.

“I am more than capable of defending myself,” Ignis said. “Don’t treat me like a child.”

Gladio breathed out a long, heavy sigh. “I don’t want to have this fight again.” They’d hashed this one out enough, and it always ended a little worse, until one day it ended with Ignis packing up his things and slamming the door behind him.

“Neither do I.” Ignis crossed the runed surface of the haven, and slid easily into Gladiolus’s lap. “Do you think this camp chair can hold us both?”

“Course it can,” Gladio grunted. “It’s a Coleman chair. And you’re not getting away from me.” He wrapped his arm around Ignis’s waist and pulled him closer. Ignis rested his head against the big man’s shoulders and hummed contentedly.

“Let’s turn back the clock,” he whispered, hot breath against Gladio’s ear. “You were the big, aggressive, cocky lout who ran the training room and made Noctis’s life miserable. Do you remember?”

Gladiolus snorted. “I remember the prince’s annoying, stuck up babysitter.”

“Babysitter! I am a royal advisor, and I’ll thank you to remember it.” But Ignis was laughing, despite his indignant tone, and Gladio smiled in the darkness. If this was his last night on earth, at least he’d had the chance to hold Ignis in his arms, and hear him laugh.


	12. The Last King of Lucis

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In which goodbyes are never as perfect as we'd like them to be, and so many things remain unsaid.

Prompto sprinted through the darkness, thinking only that he needed to get away, that he needed to breathe. He was much faster than Noctis, as the king hadn’t had ten years of practice running across uneven ground in the dark. But Noct cheated, like he did with everything, warping ahead and tackling Prompto to the ground. They tumbled together in the dirt, Prompto struggling furiously.

“Let me go, Noct,” he growled. “Let me fucking go!”

But Noctis held on, until finally the fight drained out of the gunslinger’s body and he relaxed. They sat together in the dust, looking up at the starless sky.

“It’s not fair,” Prompto said, his voice rough. “You just got back.”

“I know.”

“I don’t care if the sun never rises again,” Prompto said, clenching his fists, tears running down the side of his face. “Why should you have to be the one to bring it back?”

“Don’t,” Noctis said, and it sounded like an order. His eyes were closed, his palms pressed flat to the dead ground. “I need you, Prompto. You make me strong, and I have to be strong if I’m going to do this.”

Prompto drew his knees to his chest and looked up into the darkness. He wanted to say something, to give something—comfort, love, encouragement. Strength. But the words caught in his throat like brambles, stuck there. It was just so gods damned unfair. To wait through ten years of darkness only to have Noctis return for the span of a few short days, and then have to watch him die.

Noctis let the silence linger, and then he got up and held a hand out for Prompto. “Let’s get some sleep,” he said. “We have a long day tomorrow.”

#

“This is as far as you come,” Noctis said, standing on the steps to the palace, regal in his black garments, his cape flowing in the slight breeze. The king, ready to reclaim his rightful throne.

“You sure?” Gladiolus asked.

“Yeah,” Noctis said. “I need you to guard these doors. It won’t be long.”

A soft whimper escaped Prompto’s throat at the thought—it won’t be long. A countdown to Noct’s death. He’d spent the night quietly secure in Noctis’s arms, making love and then trying to sleep, but it wasn’t enough. A lifetime with Noctis wouldn’t be enough.

“C’mere,” Gladio said, pulling Noctis into a hug. “You’re a fuckin hero and I’m gonna say that to everybody. We ain’t forgetting you.”

Noctis pulled away, and gave Gladiolus a fond smile. “I’m not the only hero. Thank you, for always having my back.”

The king turned to Ignis next, putting a hand on his shoulder. “Thank you, for everything.”

Ignis put his hand over Noct’s. “It has been an honor to serve you.”

The two of them embraced, and then Noctis turned to Prompto.

“I don’t know what to say.” Noctis murmured, putting a hand on the side of Prompto’s face and leaning in close. “Except that…I love you. Always have, always will.”

They kissed, Prompto’s tears salty on his lips, but Noctis’s eyes were dry, his expression firmly resolved.

“I’ve been given the magic of the Crystal,” Noctis whispered, “and the power of the gods. But the happiness you gave me meant the most, out of all of it.”

Prompto bit back a sob, as Noctis pulled away with a fond smile.

“I love you,” the king said, standing at the foot of the great staircase. “All of you.” He took a deep breath, squaring his shoulders, and at the edges of the courtyard, daemons began to appear from the shadows, smoothly sinister as they encroached on the four men.

“We got incoming,” Gladiolus said.

“Buy me a little time,” Noctis said, “and the sun will rise again. I swear it.” And with that, he turned and started running up the stairs towards the inner sanctum.

The daemons attacked, and Prompto jumped into the fray. He heard the sounds of battle as though from a great distance, the subdued boom of his guns, daemons screeching with pain, the thud of Gladiolus’s greatsword. He poured his fury, his sorrow, into the rhythmic recoil of his guns, the rolls and twists, and he caught Gladio and Ignis doing the same.

Even so, it wasn’t enough. The daemons kept coming, a river of darkness and twisted, horrible shapes. Gladiolus was bleeding, Ignis stumbled, and Prompto’s hands were shaking as he raised his guns for what seemed like the last time.

And then the daemons staggered back. They began to shriek, writhing in agony as though a fire spell had just gone off in their midst. But there were no flames, just light. Just beyond the palace, a glowing orb was beginning to rise, the sky taking on colors not seen for ten years.

“Is it—” Ignis began.

“Yeah,” Gladio said. “The sun’s rising.”

Prompto started running, racing up the steps, through the palace and up the too slow elevator to the throne room. He threw open the doors and staggered into the chamber.

Noctis was there, his eyes closed, his father’s sword pinning him to the throne, and he was glowing, as though he himself were made of the same stuff as the dawn. As Prompto ran to his side, his body shone brighter and brighter, until it became ethereal, and then disappeared entirely, into the Beyond.

All that remained was the sword and the throne and Prompto, on his knees on the marble tile, begging Noctis not to go.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One more chapter to go! Thank you for all the comments and kudos. You guys are the best <3


	13. Sunrise, sunrise

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And it's done! My first completed fanfic! Thank you for all the lovely comments and kudos, they mean so much to me. I hope you've enjoyed it as much as I have. <3

\- one year later -

When he was in the city, Ignis could smell the many flowers gathered for the Festival of Light, which was both a celebration and a memorial, and took place annually on the anniversary of Noctis’s death. Establishing it had been one of Ignis’s first acts as Prime Minister.

Noctis had left the kingdom in the hands of his three companions, but neither Gladiolus nor Prompto had the inclination or training to rule. It had fallen to Ignis to organize the rebuilding and set up a Parliment in place of the now extinguished monarchy. When he was asked to serve as Prime Minister, he couldn’t think of a reason to say no. Walking the streets of the city he helped rebuild, where he could hear the bustle of a marketplace, the laughter of children, he was glad he had taken this path, even if it had been a lonely one.

Gladiolus worked for him now, as the head of a special unit of soldiers not unlike the Kingsglaive had once been. He spent his days ranging across Lucis, and sometimes foraying into Accordo, hunting the most dangerous of the daemons that still lingered. But he should be back in the city for the festival.

Someone knocked at the door, and Ignis opened it.

“Miss me, bro?” Prompto asked.

“Of course.” Ignis let him in. “How have you been?”

“Oh, you know.” Prompto declined to say more, even though it had been close to six months since their last meeting. He dropped something on the floor with a thud, a suitcase of some sort, Ignis guessed. Prompto had a habit of showing up unexpectedly, crashing with Ignis for a few days, and then disappearing for months at a time. He heard Prompto’s lightfooted gait cross the wooden floor.

“Dude,” Prompto said. “You never repaired the palace.”

He must have been looking out the window, which opened onto a spectacular view of the royal palace and grounds, a view that Ignis had loved when this had been his apartment before Insomnia fell.

“It’s a reminder,” he said, solemnly. “Lest we forget what was sacrificed.”

“Right,” Prompto murmured, subdued.

“I wasn’t sure if you were coming for the festival,” Ignis said.

“Course I’m coming,” he said, indignantly.

“Good. I’ll fix us something to eat.”

He heard Prompto’s contented sigh and the whump of his body landing hard on the couch cushions “Don’t you have someone to do that for you now that you’re the Prime Minister? An Ignis of your own?”

Ignis chuckled. “Wouldn’t that be nice. Unfortunately, there are people in much more desperate need of a cook than me. I sent my chef to one of the refugee camps in the south quadrant.”

“Huh. You’re such a nice guy, Iggy.”

“You’re welcome to stay here if you like,” Ignis said. He assumed Prompto was already planning on it. He sounded exhausted.

“Thanks,” Prompto said, clothing rustling as he got up. “I might go take a shower, then.”

A knock sounded on the door, and Ignis heard it creak open. The knife in his hand trembled, and drew a painful line across his fingertip. “Shit,” he hissed, hurrying to the sink. Would his heart never stop making that desperate leap when Gladiolus walked in a room?

“You cut yourself?” Gladiolus sounded worried, joining him at the sink. “Let me see.”

“It’s fine,” Ignis said.

“It’s not fine.” Rough, calloused fingers gripped his own under the cold stream of water. “Needs to be cleaned. You got stuff?”

Gladiolus smelled faintly of dust and gasoline, of the open road, and Ignis felt a jolt of yearning, and nostalgia.

“Did you come straight here?” he asked.

Gladiolus grunted. “Wanted to see you. I’ll check the bathroom. Put some pressure on that.”

Gladiolus sat him down in his easy chair, and Ignis held out his hand.

“This is gonna sting a little bit,” Gladiolus said. “Just gonna—”

“Stay,” Ignis said, because he couldn’t not say it for one more second. “Stay in the city with me.”

A long silence lingered, Gladiolus’s hand completely still, pressing the dishtowel to Ignis’s injured finger.

And then fingertips were on the side of his face, gently removing his glasses. He didn’t know what his eyes looked like—he had never asked anyone to tell him, but he felt naked and vulnerable with them exposed.

“I’m adopting a child,” he said. “A daughter. She was born just a few days ago.”

“Congratulations,” Gladiolus said, softly.

“I’m thrilled. And terrified. And Gladio—I would do anything to have you by my side.”

Gladio was so silent Ignis started to worry he wasn’t even there, that Prompto would come out and see him staring intently into nothing, breath held back and afraid.

“I think you’re supposed to get the husband first, then the baby,” Gladio said, finally, and Ignis couldn’t tell if he was joking. He bristled, back stiffening.

“I am more than capable of raising the child alone,” he said. “I have people to help me. I’m not trying to trap you into anything. I just—”

“Whoa, hey.” Gladiolus chuckled. “We’re just gonna have to get married before she comes home, that’s all I’m saying.”

Ignis laughed, out of sheer relief and joy. “Did you just propose to me?”

“Guess so.” Gladiolus’s warm hand rested on his knee. “What do you say, Iggy? You wanna make an honest man out of me?”

“I don’t think I’ve ever wanted anything more,” Ignis said, and Gladiolus kissed his wide, elated smile.

“Congratulations,” Prompto said, and Ignis could hear his boots on the wooden floor as he approached. “Whose best man do I get to be? I guess you guys’ll probably have to fight over it. Oh! Maybe I should get ordained! Then I can marry you guys.”

Gladio chuckled. “You can stand up for us both. But no way are you marrying us.”

“What? Why not?” Prompto whined, and Ignis smiled, listening to the two of them banter, just like they used to do. He could almost imagine they were on a runed shelf of rock, the tent behind him, Noctis dozing in a camp chair by the fire. He felt a pang of longing, for those simple times. But these were good times too, despite the hollowness of Noctis’s absence. Life moved on, and Ignis let it, because that sorrow was one he could drown in if he wasn’t careful. Instead he forced himself to turn to the future, as though lifting his face to the sun.

#

Prompto approached the empty throne, resting on its dais. This massive throne room, never to be used again, was the closest thing they had to a tomb, as Noctis had not left a body behind.

Even if Prompto sometimes wished they could have stayed together in the darkness, every time he entered this room he marveled at the courage it took for Noctis to take those final steps.

Prompto sat sideways on the throne, his knees over one of the armrests. He always felt like Noct’s spirit lingered here, close to the veil that separated their world from the beyond.

“I miss you,” he said, his voice swallowed by the massive room—but he knew Noct could hear him. “I’m sorry I haven’t been back in a while. I wanted to see if I could find the place where I was born. I found it, and I found a photo of my mom, and…I found some survivors. People, like me. Made the same way. We’re kinda related, I guess.”

He laughed, softly. “So I’ve kind of got family now. Iggy and Gladio are getting a baby and it’s the dorkiest, most adorable thing I’ve ever seen. They’re so excited.”

“And…I’ve got a gift for you.” He opened the box of photos on his lap. A hundred sunrises, from the viewpoint in Lestallum, from the ruins of Altissia, from the top of the Rock of Ravatogh, from the highest point in Insomnia’s palace. From vistas across Eos.

He went through the photos, telling the stories that went with them, until a sharp bark interrupted him. He sat up, almost falling out of the chair, and looked down at the tiny, pale dog who had her paws up on the throne, wagging her short tail.

“Hey.” Prompto leaned down to pet the perky dog. “Where have you been? I’ve been worried about you.”

Pryna gave a short bark that did very little to explain her long absence.

“I’ll take your word for it,” Prompto said, reaching for the little notebook attached to the dog’s collar. “Doesn’t Umbra usually carry this?”

The dog looked at him with big black eyes and wagged her tail encouragingly.

Prompto held the notebook gingerly, as though it might turn to dust at an errant touch. It might be full of Noct and Luna’s correspondence, but it was still something that had been dear to the king, something to hold onto, and Prompto had precious few of those.

As he studied it, he realized this notebook was different—blue, with a silver filigree, and he was almost certain the other one had been red.

Inside, there was writing only on the first page, in the tidy script of a man brought up as royalty.

_Take your time, my love. I’ll be waiting for you._

Little wet dots appeared on the page, and Prompto absently wiped his eyes, unable to stop staring at the words he knew were meant for him. He fumbled in his pocket for a pen, and wrote out a quick note, tucking a photograph into the book before tying it back onto Pryna’s collar.

Behind the throne, through the sundered wall, the sun cast brilliant rays of light across the polished marble floor, until the tomb of the last king of Lucis glowed like the dawn.

**Author's Note:**

> If you like what I write, you might like this free m/m romance book I wrote for fun: [Off Broadway](https://www.amazon.com/Off-Broadway-Sarah-Kay-Moll-ebook/dp/B07DP6DVHC/)


End file.
